


For the First Time in a Long Time

by lookatthestarrynight



Series: Star Wars Shorts and Mini-Series [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:55:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23515792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookatthestarrynight/pseuds/lookatthestarrynight
Summary: Poe leads the charge on the rebuild of the galaxy following the defeat of the First Order by day and contemplates a domestic future with the love of his life by night. The future is bright and for the first time, he can see it clearly.Third Person POV
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Reader, Poe Dameron/You
Series: Star Wars Shorts and Mini-Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701205
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	For the First Time in a Long Time

**Author's Note:**

> I opted not to have a name given for the reader - just that the reader is a woman. All other physical descriptors are left to your imagination. :)

It had been a late night of infuriating negotiations with planets throughout the galaxy for Poe. The Battle of Exegol had ended the First Order, sure, but it did almost nothing to unite the galaxy once the common enemy had been destroyed. If anything, the galaxy had become more divided than ever… or at least that’s how it felt to Poe. And so, when he returned to his apartment in Coruscant to sleep, Poe was more than ready to curl up in bed next to the love of his life and forget about his galactic frustrations.

She’d been his rock in the past year or so of the fight against the First Order, and had remained a steady, immovable force supporting his every decision in the months like this that followed the Battle of Exegol. To this day, Poe still thought it was a miracle that he’d ever come across her – she’d defected from the First Order shortly after the Battle of Crait (a tall order for a high-ranked officer), and planet-hopped before she finally managed to find a way to the Resistance – and him.

In every way, she represented the unique talents that the First Order had possessed throughout their fight against the Resistance in pursuit of galactic domination. She was precise and tactical – she never said a word without thinking – she was strategic and cunning, regimented and militant; she possessed infallible ingenuity in the face of ill-favored odds and moral ambiguity that could make the tough decisions when necessary. Despite joining the Resistance, she maintained a very “end justify the means” approach to every decision – where a long-time member of the Resistance spared, she did not.

All of these things about her could be seen even as she laid in their shared bed, curled on her side, one hand under her pillow (and undoubtedly next to the dagger that could always be found there), and the other resting on her belly – where their first child grew, unawares of the struggles that had lead them to this existence. She always slept on the right side of the bed, facing the large windows that looked across the Coruscant cityscape which bustled with life through all hours of the cycle. As Poe sat down on the edge of the mattress to remove his boots, she twitched – but did not wake. That was another trait of hers that remained even when the First Order did not: once her eyes closed, she went to sleep. No matter the horrors of the waking hours, no matter the situation, no matter the location. She slept heavily and never woke to anything quieter than wailing alarms and sirens, and once she woke up, she did not dilly-dally between the sheets as any other might – she got up and went about her business. Though, as he’d noticed in his late night returns, she sometimes woke up just enough to speak a word or two when he would lay down next to her – she never remembered those moments when the morning came, but Poe cherished them.

Quietly, Poe changed in to his sleep clothes, making a quick jaunt to the refresher before he returned to their bedroom. He carefully crawled under the sheets and slid over to her, wrapping one arm around hers to lay his hand on her belly. The baby shifted for just a moment – but otherwise seemed to acknowledge the importance of letting their mother sleep. Poe gently pressed a kiss to her temple, and then below her ear, and whispered a quiet “Goodnight, sweetheart,” into her ear.

She hummed, turning her head just a bit towards him, her eyes still closed. “Goodnight, my love,” she whispered, unconsciously pushing herself further into his chest.

Poe smiled to himself. She was not his wife yet, but she wore his mother’s ring on her finger and the chain sat empty on his neck. It was a promise he’d made to her before they’d run headfirst into the Battle of Exegol – him in an X-wing and her with the ground forces. He’d never forget the moment either – his desperate “If we make it,” and her calm and collected “ _When_ we make it.” She’d never missed an opportunity to correct him – and indeed anyone else – that the Resistance was more than capable of success, although her words always made it clear where she’d come from: “Where the First Order does not care about casualties or lost causes, the Resistance does,” she’s always say, “The Resistance cares about casualties and lost causes, because it is one.” She ruffled feathers right and left, but not without occasionally spitting out Leia-level wisdom, like the words she’d tacked onto his speech before Exegol, before he asked her to marry him: “Persistence in the face of defeat is an inevitable trait of success,” she’d paused and surveyed the fighters before her, “The Resistance is persistent, so the Resistance will succeed.”

When she’d found out she was pregnant, she’d told him over dinner one night in their apartment in Coruscant – although technically she paid the bills for it, she never let him call it anything other than “ours.” Her delivery had been stiff and uncomfortable, and he’d never forget the look of relieved surprise in her eyes when he’d practically jumped over the table to hug her and her then non-existent baby bump. They’d chosen to keep the gender unknown until the baby was born – but they’d chosen names. Shara Leia for a girl – after the mother figures of Poe’s life – and Armand Emmin for a boy – after her late father and brother, both killed on Hosnian Prime. She’d had a hard life, and he thanked the stars above and below everyday that he got to make it a better one.

Slowly, Poe drifted off to sleep, breathing in her faint perfume – made with the flora she cultivated in her spare time on the balcony – and dreaming of the future – small children galivanting in the fields on Naboo that surrounded her family summer home and a smile on her face as she laughed at their antics, journeys through the stars in an X-wing with his first-born at the controls (supervised, of course), large family dinners with Rey and Finn and Rose and the rest – all of the hallmarks of a post-war domestic bliss he never thought he’d get to see. For the first time in a long time, Poe Dameron felt at peace.

And for the first time in a very long time, so did the galaxy far, far away. 


End file.
